


We don't pray for love

by runphoebe



Series: Consequences [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Drunk Sex, First Time, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Unresolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runphoebe/pseuds/runphoebe
Summary: “You hooking up?” TJ asks after Jonny’s stared at his phone for several minutes, eyes blurring at the simple line of text from Patrick. TJ’s a bro. If Jonny’s hooking up, he’s not going to get in his way, even if they had planned to kill the rest of the wine box during their all night Lord of the Rings marathon.“Nah,” Jonny says, even if the idea of it makes his head spin. For all that Patrick’s a mess of a twenty year old, there’s something appealing there. “This one's definitely straight.”TJ snorts. “Right. I text all my casual male acquaintances shit that makes their faces do,” he gestures vaguely to Jonny's face, “that at eleven-thirty at night.”





	We don't pray for love

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO. It has been 1.5 years since I posted any fic on this archive. It's honestly been 1.5 years since I've written any fic at all, so I'm coming at you with 3k of internalized homophobia, emotional sex, and more feelings than Jonathan Toews would like to admit, because I'm complete trash *shrug emoji*
> 
> This is set 8 years before "Gonna Bite Your Feelings Out", and takes place a few weeks after Jonny and Patrick meet for the first time. In my head, they met when Jonny was smoking a joint outside a club they were both at and Patrick wanted in on that (in more ways than one, if you know what I mean).
> 
> Please proceed with caution if the tags give you any weird or uncomfortable feelings about the contents herein. (btw the drunk sex tag is more like tipsy sex, but neither of them is completely sober.)
> 
> The title is obviously a lyric from Starboy by the Weeknd because I'm the most predictable person on this website.

Jonny’s splitting a ten dollar box of merlot with TJ the first time Patrick Kane texts him. They’ve peripherally hung out a handful of times now, showing up at the same club three separate nights and winding up in the back alley to split a joint each time, passing it back and forth between easy conversation. Jonny thinks Patrick finally asked for his number once he realized how good his weed was.

“You hooking up?” TJ asks after Jonny’s stared at his phone for several minutes, eyes blurring at the simple line of text from Patrick. TJ’s a bro. If Jonny’s hooking up, he’s not going to get in his way, even if they had planned to kill the rest of the wine box during their all night Lord of the Rings marathon.

“Nah,” Jonny says, even if the idea of it makes his head spin. For all that Patrick’s a mess of a twenty year old, there’s something appealing there. “This one's definitely straight.”

TJ snorts. “Right. I text all my casual male acquaintances shit that makes their faces do,” he gestures vaguely to Jonny's face, “ _that_ at eleven-thirty at night.”

Jonny rubs a hand across the back of his neck, burying his smile in his cheap paper cup of wine. In a way, Jonny knows he’s right. Patrick definitely thinks he’s straight, or he wants to be, and he’s probably not knowingly texting Jonny right now with the intention of luring him into his apartment and into his bed. But Jonny’s good at reading people, at sensing the way Patrick holds his body infinitesimally too close to Jonny’s when they stand next to each other or how his eyes catch on the purse of Jonny’s lips around a joint. He’s slept with enough guys like Patrick to know how they operate.

“All he said was ‘hey’,” Jonny finally says to TJ. “Not exactly a booty call.”

“Yeah, okay.” TJ rolls his eyes. “I’m sure he just wants to have a late-night chat.”

Jonny flips TJ off, shooting off a quick, _hey what’s up?_ , in response to Patrick. It only takes a few seconds for Patrick’s answer to come in. _Just chilling_ , followed by, _nothing fun going on tonight._

Yeah right, Jonny thinks. Patrick’s a superstar in this city. There’s always something fun going on for him. _Same. I could come over?_ Jonny response, casual as can be.

It takes Patrick a little longer to reply this time. _Okay_ , he says eventually, followed by his address.

 _Be there in an hour_ , Jonny writes, giving himself enough time to change out of his ratty sweatpants and t-shirt combo and get across town.

“Sorry, buddy,” Jonny says to TJ, refilling his wine cup before he hauls himself out of his seat. “Aragorn’s gonna have to wait one more night.”

“Hey, I am not the one in love with Aragorn,” TJ protests loudly as Jonny heads for his bedroom. “Have fun with your totally platonic new best friend!”

Jonny just smirks.

*

Patrick lets him in with a fist bump when Jonny shows up an hour later. Seeing Patrick’s condo makes him glad he opted for nice-ish jeans and white waffle-knit shirt, even if Patrick is just wearing criminally well-fitted sweats and an ancient looking Bills tee. This is the nicest place Jonny’s ever been before, and Jonny doesn’t want to feel too out of his depth. Patrick doesn’t quite have the taste to match it, Jonny notes, cataloguing the horrendous collection of novelty bar glasses lining the glass-front cabinets and the sparsely decorated living room, anchored by a brightly patterned rug that Jonny thinks needs to be banished firmly back to the 80’s.

“Nice place,” Jonny says, wandering toward the wall of floor to ceiling windows. He whistles. The view is like nothing Jonny’s ever seen.

“Thanks,” Patrick says demurely. He lingers in the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Jonny saw his collection of liquor on the way in, and it’s all way above his pay grade. He doesn’t need anything strong right now, anyway. Not when he downed nearly half a box of wine before coming here. “How about a beer?” he suggests.

Patrick almost looks relieved at that. Jonny has a feeling Patrick’s idea of a nice drink is still Jager and redbull.

“Heineken okay?” Patrick asks, grabbing two from the fridge, and Jonny nods. Patrick pops the lid on both of them before bringing them out to the living room.

“Thanks,” Jonny says when Patrick slips one into his hand. He’s standing a breath too close again, the warmth of his body heat tangible through Jonny’s shirt. Patrick carries himself differently when he isn’t in a crowd. All that affected big-man cockiness melts from his shoulders here, when it’s just him and Jonny. If not for the Hawks memorabilia adorning the walls, it would be easy to forget what a superstar he is. Right now, he just looks like a kid forced into his fame too quickly.

They stand there for a moment, ostensibly admiring the Chicago skyline. Jonny takes the opportunity to breathe in Patrick’s cologne, a touch on the overpowering side but still so good and male and spicy in his throat.

“Do you want, ah,” Patrick starts, rubbing his free hand nervously over his jaw. “Video games?” he finishes awkwardly, motioning toward the massive flat-screen mounted on his wall.

Jonny wanders over to the couch, sitting down in the middle. “Not really my thing,” he admits, glancing back at Patrick. “We could watch TV?”

Patrick blows out a breath, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Knew you were a fuckin’ nerd, Toews,” he says with a shit-eating grin. He joins Jonny on the couch anyway and grabs the remote. Their thighs touch when Patrick kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “Whatever man, we can watch TV, but I’m picking.”

“I’m your guest,” Jonny says, feigning indignance. Like he gives a shit what TV program runs in the background right now. “Aren’t I supposed to get what I want?”

Patrick hesitates. It feels like there’s this moment caught between them, like Patrick could take this whatever direction he wants and Jonny’s just on board for the ride. “What do you want, Jonny?” he finally says, tonguing his chapped lips anxiously.

He feels their difference in height acutely like this, especially since Patrick’s slouched down slightly against the cushions. The air is so charged that Jonny’s afraid of igniting it with the wrong sort of spark. After all, every theory he has about Patrick being hot for him is based purely in speculation and Jonny’s not eager to push him too far.

“Hmm. Sportscenter?” Jonny suggests, and Patrick seems to deflate slightly. “Or,” Jonny says, “we could forget about the TV and make out on your couch instead.”

Once it’s out, it’s out. There’s nothing Jonny can do except wait to see how Patrick responds. He might tell Jonny to fuck off, and Jonny’d just have to get over that, but he might… he might -  

“ _Jonny_ ,” Patrick says, voice too shocked to be a true whine. He’s sitting up a little straighter, feet off the coffee table and pressed firmly to the floor. He’s not afraid to look at Jonny, head turned so their gazes catch and hold, mirrored arousal written across their faces. Jonny lets his hand wander across Patrick’s muscled thigh, surprised at the strength he finds there.

“Your call, Patrick,” Jonny says. He’s starting to get hard in his jeans from the anticipation, and from the way Patrick keep wetting his lips with his ridiculous tongue. Jonny would really like to get acquainted with that tongue.

Patrick exhales. “Most of my friends call me Kaner,” he tells Jonny, mouth close enough to Jonny’s jaw that he can feel the ghost of the words across his cheek.

“Hmm,” Jonny considers. “I like Patrick.”

Patrick groans. “ _Fuck me_ ,” he whispers, like he’s mostly saying it to himself or doesn’t realize he’s said it at all. Jonny doesn’t really care because before he can move, Patrick’s swinging a leg over his lap and falling onto Jonny’s mouth for a wet, sloppy kiss that’s everything Jonny’s been imagining.

Patrick is frantic with it, tongue and lips engulfing Jonny like he’s trying to eat him alive, hands travelling from the tendony curve of his neck to his chest and back again. He tastes like beer and some kind of liquor, lingering in his mouth from whatever he drank before Jonny came over. Jonny wants to kiss him until it all gives way to the taste of Patrick. Just Patrick.

The frenzy of it all is hot as hell, especially when Patrick starts rocking his hips minutely against Jonny’s, a scattered, halting rhythm that’s revving Jonny’s engine hard and quick. Jonny settles his hands on Patrick’s hips, guiding him a little and breaking their kiss to mouth at the vulnerable, fluttering pulse in Patrick’s neck. The sheen of sweat over his skin is salty on Jonny’s tongue. Patrick seems to like that, since he grunts in Jonny’s ear and grinds more purposefully into Jonny.

When their dicks brush together for the first time, Patrick lets out a wounded sounding groan.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck,” he moans, hands painfully tight on Jonny’s shoulders. Jonny breaks away from the path he’s travelling down Patrick’s neck to glance down between them. The bulge in Patrick’s sweats is big, and there’s a wet spot bleeding through the grey fabric, and Jonny is so fucking into all of that.

“Hey,” Jonny says, startled by the rawness of his own voice. “Can I?” he asks, letting his fingertips trail over Patrick’s fabric-covered cock.

“Oh, God,” Patrick whines, leaning into it. “Yeah, Jonny, fuck, I wanna see - I wanna -”

They both watch as Jonny tugs Patrick’s sweats down, tucking them under his balls. The sight of it makes Jonny groan. It should come as no surprise that Patrick’s packing in a major way, but it still makes Jonny’s gut twist to see that big, fat dick all filled up and heavy and hard just because of the way Jonny’s been kissing him and the desperation to get even more.

“Jesus,” Jonny says, wrapping his fingers around as much of it as he can. His mouth waters involuntarily and there’s an emptiness in his ass that Jonny suddenly aches to fill, but he doubts Patrick could get out of his head enough for anything other than quick handjobs.

“Yeah, baby,” Patrick says sleazily, some of that cockiness Jonny is used to seeping back into his voice. Patrick Kane definitely knows exactly how big his dick is. Jonny tightens his grip on it just to see Patrick flinch forward, a drop of pre-come leaking from the tip.

“You like that?” Jonny murmurs. The way Patrick looks at him with heavy, hooded eyes makes him acutely aware of the strain of his own cock in his jeans. Jonny’s pretty much always free-balling it, so it’s rubbing uncomfortably against the cool metal teeth of his zipper and the friction’s getting Jonny good. “Hold on, I gotta,” Jonny says, thumbing open the button on his pants. He slide the zipper down and frees his dick, using his free hand to just cup himself, just so he can feel where he’s all sensitive. Patrick’s silent above him, using both hands to anchor himself against Jonny’s shoulders when Jonny strokes his dick again.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Patrick says when Jonny presses his own dick against his belly, letting a spurt of precome soak the tangle of hair beneath his belly button.

“You ever done this?” Jonny asks, his hand a slow drag all up and down the length of Patrick.

The flush staining the expanse of Patrick’s throat belies any of the coolness in his voice when he answers. “I mean, yeah, I - but this isn’t,” he starts. “I’m not gay, I’m not - This is just buddies, right?”

Jonny doesn’t know what Patrick gets up to with his buddies, but he wishes he had buddies like that. “S’okay,” Jonny promises hoarsely. “I’ve fucked a lot of straight guys, Patrick.”

“Jesus Christ, Jonny,” Patrick groans, and Jonny’s not sure if it’s from Jonny’s words, or the way Jonny’s hand is still sliding rough over his dick.

“I got this,” Jonny promises. He holds eye contact with Patrick as he lifts his hand to his mouth to lick his palm, tasting the musky sweat of Patrick’s junk and the tang of pre-come. “Come here, baby,” he says, urging Patrick forward on his lap until their dicks are lined up with each other and Jonny can take them in one hand, using the friction of their joined bodies to rub off on. Jonny’s chafing a little on Patrick’s sweats, but he likes it like that.

It’s over quick after that. Jonny’s been edging his arousal ever since Patrick first texted him, and he has a feeling it’s no different for Patrick. The feel of their cocks slipping together is intoxicating, all strung through with pain in the places they contact Patrick’s sweats or Jonny’s jeans. Patrick comes first, crying out and leaning back to watch raptly as his cock messes up Jonny’s shirt. It’s a ridiculous sight, that huge cock spurting out a massive load of come, balls clenching up tight against Patrick’s body. Patrick’s lips are bitten red and bleeding where he’d dug a canine into the sensitive flesh, and he’s flushed from his cheeks to the hint of collarbone peaking out of his shirt.

Jonny doesn’t last long after that. Patrick threads his hand through Jonny’s fingers, startling a little at the feel of his blood-hot dick, and it’s game over for Jonny. Those hands are big and wide and capable, and Jonny’s pretty sure they belong all over his body.

“Fuck, _yeah_ ,” Jonny groans as he finishes, shamelessly using Patrick’s hand to help him rub it out until he’s spent. It could hardly even count as a hand job, but it’s still the best orgasm Jonny’s had in ages. Something about Patrick Kane just gets Jonny in all the right places.

“Damn, Toews,” Patrick sighs appreciatively. He hasn’t tucked himself back in yet, and even soft his dick is a sight to behold. It makes Jonny ache with the idea that he’ll never get to properly experience that, but Patrick’s a fucked up kid and even though Jonny doesn’t mind being a destination on his journey toward sexual acceptance, he’s not sure he wants to be along for the whole ride.

Jonny nudges him until he huffs, and swings his leg back over, freeing Jonny to get up and get a glass of water from the kitchen. His ass is starting to get numb and his thighs are nearly asleep from where Patrick was sitting on them. Patrick follows him, carrying their half-empty beer bottles.

“You wanna finish this off?” Patrick asks, sounding casual as can be, like he hadn’t just tucked his dick back into his pants after letting Jonny jerk it for him. Jonny might not be the first guy Patrick’s been with, but he does think he might be the first guy he’s touched more than perfunctorily. The first guy he’s kissed. He’s getting a pretty good idea of how these things usually go down with him, and it’s probably never been much more than teammates blowing off steam.

Which would be fine, except. _Except._ Jonny knows how Patrick looks at him, and it’s not the way teammates look at each other when they want to blow off steam. Jonny’s instincts are telling him to stay far away from that.

“Nah,” Jonny says, rinsing out his water glass and placing it in the sink. “I should head out.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Patrick says, a little surprised. “You don’t have to.”

“Look, Patrick,” Jonny says. He’s using a damp paper towel to try to scrub the come from his shirt, but mostly he’s just happy that his shirt is white and that it’s late so he probably won’t run into that many people. “I don’t mind fucking a straight boy, but I make it a rule not to do it more than once.”

“I get it, dude,” Patrick says, holding up his hands. “Whatever. It’s cool.”

His face is flushed. Jonny doesn’t know if it’s anger, embarrassment, or lingering arousal.

“Thanks for having me, Patrick,” Jonny says, with an ease he doesn’t feel.

“Yeah,” Patrick says. “Maybe I’ll see you.”

But Jonny really doesn’t think so.

*

It’s a week before Patrick texts him again.

Jonny’s out to dinner with TJ and his girlfriend when it comes through. _Hey_ , the text says, _what’s up?_

“Who’s that?” TJ demands after Jonny’s been staring at his phone for a while. “Not the guy from last week?”

Jonny just hums. _Dinner with my roommate_ , Jonny answers. _You?_

“Jonny, no,” TJ says, trying to grab his phone out of his hands before Jonny swiftly ducks away. “You were an asshole for like, three days after you went over there. Whoever this guy is, I don’t approve.”

 _Bored as fuck,_ Patrick texts back. _Sharpy just abandoned me for his girlfriend._

“I was an asshole because I had a paper due and didn’t sleep for two days,” Jonny corrects, even though TJ’s right.

“Oh, fuck off, Tazer.” TJ shoves Jonny’s shoulder lightly with his hand.

“Whatever, man,” Jonny says.

 _I could come over?_ he texts to Patrick. He doesn’t even wait for a response before he says, _just give me twenty_.

**Author's Note:**

> A long and toxic road ahead of these poor boys. 
> 
> Join me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/runphoebe1) and [tumblr](https://twitter.com/runphoebe1>twitter</a>%20or%20<a%20href=) where I actually semi-participate in fandom after my Very Long Hiatus.


End file.
